The Black Death
by Anonymous7093713
Summary: Father abandoned son, wife abandoned husband, and brother abandoned brother." When the Winchester boys are put into an unusual situatuon, they'll realize how much they need each other afer all.
1. Prologue

A/N: This is my first Supernatural fanfic. The title can probably tell you a little bit about what this story will be about, but if not, you'll find out soon enough. ;) Please feel free to criticize me, I'm still learning. Thank you. Also, this is set sometime during season four after "Sex and Violence." If you haven't seen that episode, go watch it. It's great.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own Sam, Dean, or Castiel.

* * *

**The Black Death**

_Ring around the rosie, pocket full of posies, ashes, ashes,_

_We all fall down..._

* * *

Another argument.

Another slam of the door.

And another trip to the bar, for Dean Winchester.

It had been a couple of weeks since the brothers' big blowout with the siren. Even though they knew the Nick was the one who had told them to "talk things out," they also knew that what they said had been thoughts stored in their minds pretty much ever since Dean came back from Hell. And now that they'd just been put out into the open like that, they knew there was no way of taking them back. All they could do was try to deal with it; pretend that it never happened.

Of course, for Dean, that wasn't so easy. Sam's harsh words still rang in his head.

"_Okay, fine. You wanna know why I didn't tell you about Ruby? How we're hunting down Lilith? Because you're too weak to go after her, Dean. You're holding me back."_

Dean drank another shot of whiskey and motioned to the bartender to get another. The man looked at Dean for a second questioningly, remembering the 5 drinks before that, and then did as he'd been asked. Dean finished that one as well, but then set the glass down in front of him and stared at it. Had he really been holding Sam back?

"Hey, buddy, you alright?" Dean glanced up and nodded before focusing his attention back on the glass. The bartender shrugged and then walked away to help another customer.

"_I'm a better hunter than you are, stronger, smarter. I can take out demons you're too scared to go near."_

"That's crap," Dean mumbled, reliving the fight in his head.

"_You're too busy sitting around feeling sorry for yourself. Whining at all the souls you tortured in Hell."_

Dean shoved the glass away.

"_Boo hoo."_

"Dean."

The older man sitting in the barstool jumped when he heard the strong, familiar voice behind him. Then he settled, feeling a little frustrated. "What do you want, Cas?"

Castiel sat in the stool next to him. "We need to talk."

"Of course we do," Dean said with a roll of his eyes. He handed the glass to the bartender when he came back. The guy held it up, silently asking if Dean wanted more, but Dean shook his head and the man walked away with it. Dean turned back to Castiel. "What do you want?"

"The growing gap between you and your brother needs to stop. You both are going to have to work together to beat Lucifer, and that won't happen unless you two are _able_ to work together."

"I'm not the one who doesn't want to 'work together,' remember?" Dean turned around in the stool. "That'd be Sam. Go talk to _him _about it." Slamming some money down on the counter, he stood and started to walk away. Castiel followed him. "I already talked to your brother." Dean stopped right in front of the door and turned around to face the angel. "You did? …what'd he say?"

"He seems to agree with you on the fact that he doesn't need you," Castiel answered blankly. Dean snorted. "I knew it," he snorted as he walked out of the bar. Once again, Castiel followed him.

"Dean, you need to fix this. Whether Sam knows it or not, he _does _need you. Just as much as you need him."

Dean whirled around. "I _don't _need him. I could do just fine on my own." He paused and looked at the ground for a moment. Then he turned around and left the angel standing on the dark sidewalk.

Castiel stood there and watched the 30 year old man walk away. He sighed. "These are _strange _orders."

* * *

When Dean made it back to the motel, he wasn't surprised to find his little brother asleep on his bed. He stared at him for a second before putting his room key and jacket down on the table and lying down in his own bed, the one closest to the door. He didn't bother taking a shower or anything. He'd be up before Sam in the morning anyway; he'd just take it then.

He laid on his stomach, head resting peacefully on the pillow. He really wished things could be back to normal with him and Sam, he _really _did. But Sam was the one who damaged their relationship. Not Dean. And Sam was the only one who could fix it.

That was Dean's last thought before drifting off to sleep. He never noticed Castiel standing in the darkest corner of their room.

As quietly as he could, Cas made his way to stand in between the beds the brothers were asleep in. He looked over to his left at Sam, then to his right at Dean. Then, without a word, he placed two fingers of one hand on Sam's forehead, and did the same with Dean. The Winchesters disappeared from their beds. Castiel stood there before disappearing along with them.

"I hope this works…"


	2. 1348

A/N: Thanks for reading, let's get started! :)

Disclaimer: Nope…STILL don't own them…

* * *

**The Black Death**

_Ring around the rosie, pocket full of posies, ashes, ashes,_

_We all fall down…_

* * *

Dean felt himself start to wake up. He could tell without opening his eyes that it was already in the late afternoon, maybe 3 o' clock. It was bright. A little _too _bright. Had Sam already woken up and opened the windows? …and didn't he go to sleep on a bed?

Why was he laying on dirt, then?

He forced himself to open his eyes. He definitely wasn't in the motel room. He was in an alley. On one side of him was a tall brick building, and on the other side was a white, wooden one. He slowly and cautiously stood and looked around. He could see people walking up and down the streets in front of him. The strange thing was what they were wearing.

He saw women and young girls in medieval dress, men too, and he could've sworn he'd seen a couple knights walk by.

"Okay," he said quietly to himself, "I'm dreaming. This is…weird…"

He heard someone grunt behind him and turned to see Sam lying there, still asleep…and not wearing his usual clothes. He was in a white, rough wool tunic and black leggings. It took all Dean had not to burst out laughing at the sight. "Sam?" He bent down and shook his brother, smiling. "Sam, wake up." But Sam didn't budge. A small spike of worry was sent through Dean, and his smile was gone. "Sam?"

"Hello, Dean."

Dean looked up to see Castiel, still dressed in his usual trench coat. "Cas?" Dean stood and looked at the angel suspiciously. "…I _am_ _dreaming, _right?"

"I am afraid not." Castiel looked down.

Dean waited a moment and then put out his arms. "Then what am I-" It was then that Dean noticed he was wearing an outfit similar to Sam's, only his tunic was green. He paused to look down at himself and then looked back up at the angel incredulously. "Cas, what the hell-"

"You are in London. It is October 31, 1348." Dean looked at him for a second. "Okay, thanks for the info. But what I really want to know is _why?"_

"These are orders," Castiel answered patiently. "You and your brother are supposed to learn something here."

"What, how _not _to dress? Is this some kind of history lesson? C'mon, Cas, help me out here!"

"I do not know." He answered solemnly. "My orders are to leave you here. I cannot do anything for you until the lesson is learned."

"WHAT LESSON?" Dean boomed. A few of the townspeople on the street had looked at him curiously. Dean looked over his shoulder to shoot them dirty looks and they quickly turned away. Dean turned back to face Castiel. "You know, I'm getting real tired of you angels and your lessons," he whispered harshly. But the angel was gone. Dean and Sam were left alone.

"Damn it," Dean growled under his breath. But his attention turned to Sam as his brother started to get up. "Dean?" Dean kneeled back down to help Sam up. Sam opened his eyes and looked around. Slight fear and confusion tinted his blue-green eyes. He turned his head to look at Dean. "Dude, where are…we…" He looked Dean over and then let a loud laugh loose. "Dean, what're you- what're you wearing?" He asked between giggles.

"Laugh all you want, Sasquatch," Dean pulled Sam to his feet, annoyed. "You aren't looking so hot either."

Sam's eyebrows twitched in confusion and he reluctantly looked down at his clothes. His head snapped back up, all amusement gone from his face and replaced with embarrassment. "Dean, _where are we?" _"London," Dean answered. "According to Cas, it's October 31, 1348." "Wait, Castiel sent us here?" "Apparently. We have another 'lesson' to learn. Don't ask me what it means, cause I have no idea."

Sam rolled his eyes and turned away, mumbling something under his breath. "What'd you say," Dean demanded. Sam shook his head. "Nothing. Let's go have a look around." Sam started heading for the crowded street, but Dean just stood there. He was still feeling aggravated from the fight they had before he'd gone to the bar, and he knew Sam was too. He let out a huff a frustration. THIS was going to be fun.

He joined Sam, walking side by side with him down the street. "So what do we know about this time period?"

"I know that none of these buildings around us are houses. They're shops. Houses around this time were cottages with only one or two rooms, and you only owned a bed if you were lucky."

"Okay, so what are we looking for?"

"An inn. Or a pub. We need a place to eat and stay. There's no guarantee there will be one, though."

"Should we, ya know, ask around?"

"That's probably not a bad idea."

Dean nodded and walked up to a random woman. She was in a teal dress and had blonde hair. She looked maybe 16 years old. "Excuse me, miss?" She turned to look at him with curious blue eyes as he walked up, Sam right behind him. "Do you know where I can find an 'inn?' I need a place to stay for the night."

"Down that hill, there," She pointed in the direction they'd already been walking. "There's a place called Cleobury Mortimer. I believe that is where you're looking for." Dean nodded and winked. "Thanks, uh…"

"My name's Johanna." She smiled.

"Dean." Dean stuck his hand out, but the girl looked puzzled and slightly flustered. She did a slight curtsy and walked away. "Huh," Dean grunted as he watched her leave. "What's up with her?" "Things are different in the Middle Ages, Dean." Sam looked at Dean like he was an idiot. "Come on."

They started walking again, looking for the place Johanna had told them about. They'd been walking for a few hours when Sam muttered something. Dean turned his head. "Come again?"

"It's just," Sam began. "1348. Doesn't that year sound familiar to you?"

"Not in the least," Dean answered dismissingly.

"Well, look who I'm asking," Sam breathed, aggravated. Dean glared at his brother. "There something you wanna say, Sam?"

"What do you mean?" Sam glared back.

Dean opened his mouth to say something, but shut it abruptly as something caught his eye. A crowded building, made of wood and hay, surrounded by people drinking and dancing. The sign outside said, "Cleobury Mortimer." "Hey," Dean nudged Sam and motioned toward the place. They headed for the entrance.

Dean pushed past about thirty drunken men and ten drunken women running around and dancing. Someone they'd passed had even handed them each a slice of bread and a glass of beer. Dean grinned and turned to Sam. "My kinda place," he yelled over the noise. Sam smirked and shook his head. Finally, they made it to what looked like the bar. There was an old man behind it who looked like he could be in his fifties. Sam made it there first, though. The man saw them approach and smiled friendly. "Evening, gentlemen."

"Good evening," Sam greeted. "Is there, by any chance, a place my brother and I could rest for the night?"

"Right upstairs," the man informed. "There's a room full of beds." He motioned to his left at the staircase.

"Thank you," Sam smiled, and then made his way toward the staircase. Dean smiled, took a swig of his beer, and did the same.

The old man was right, there was a room full of beds. And about half of them were taken. Dean looked around at all the people. "Well, at least we get some privacy," he whispered. Sam gave him an un-amused look and the two headed for the empty side of the room. They picked two beds that were right next to each other.

Dean looked around for a moment before asking, "What are we supposed to sleep in?"

Sam suddenly looked uncomfortable. Dean stared at him. "What is it?" "Well," Sam said, "people in this time period…um…didn't really need to worry about what they slept in."

Dean looked blank, his expression uncomprehending. "So, what, they slept in their every day clothes?"

"No."

Dean's eyes got wide as something clicked. "They slept naked??" "Yeah, pretty much," Sam answered, still looking pretty awkward. Dean whipped around to see that it was true; most of the men were sleeping in the nude. Dean shook his head. "No. Screw that, I'm sleeping in my man dress. Or better yet, I'll just stay up for a while and drink my beer," he decided, taking a bite of his bread.

Sam nodded, agreeing, and the two lay down. The beds were pretty much just wood with blankets. "This is comfortable. Why aren't out beds in 2009 like this," Dean growled sarcastically. Sam rolled his eyes and turned on his side, back to Dean. "Night," he grumbled. "Yeah, whatever," came the reply.

_This test had better be important_, was the Sam's last thought before he fell asleep.

* * *

A/N: Yeah, I know...they went to sleep as soon as they got there. But they HAD been walking for a few hours and pretty much spent the whole day going back and forth at each other...they had to be tired, right? Besides, this was just sort of an...introduction. To the setting, to the lifestyle, and to a couple of characters we'll see later on...and by the way, I don't know how people talked back then, so... :) Thanks for reading, please review!


	3. And so, it begins

A/N: Thanks for the reviews! And thanks to all those who put me on story alert, it made me smile. :) See? Let's get started…

Disclaimer: Nope. Unfortunately, I still do not own them.

* * *

**The Black Death**

_Ring around the rosie, pockets full of posies, ashes, ashes,_

_We all fall down…_

* * *

When Sam felt himself starting to wake up, his first thoughts were, "Wonder if Dean's up," and "What time is it?" He didn't even remember where he was until he opened his eyes to Dean's empty bed. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see men and women on the other side of the room. A few people were still asleep, but some were getting up and dressed. Sam sat up and rubbed his eyes before standing and heading for downstairs to find his brother.

Sunlight crept through the cracks of wooden boards as Sam made his way down the staircase. He had a feeling it was morning, but wouldn't know for sure until he got a look outside.

The first thing he saw when he stood in the doorway was the old man from last night sweeping the dust off the floor with resembled a broom. The man must've heard the floor creak as Sam approached, because he looked up at him as soon as he came in. "Good morning," he greeted cheerfully.

"Hello," Sam replied. "Have you seen my brother? The man I was with last night?"

"Right here, Sammy." Sam turned his head to see Dean sitting at a small table with his feet propped up on it. Sam walked over to him. "What time is it?" Sam asked.

"I haven't checked yet. I just finished eating," Dean informed. He rubbed his hands together, getting the last bit of crumbs off and rested his hands behind his head, leaning back. "You go check."

"Alright," Sam sighed. He didn't feel like getting into it with Dean first thing in the morning, so he did as he was told. He pushed the door open and looked up at the sky, shielding his eyes from the sun, but trying to find its position as he did so. He walked outside since he couldn't see it at first. It was still pretty low in the blue, cloudless sky, so he knew he'd been right earlier. It was still morning. He was about to go tell Dean when he heard people shouting and saw some running.

_What the...? _Sam caught a man by his elbow as he was running. "Hey, hey," Sam said. "What's going on? Why's everyone freaking out?"

The man looked at him for a moment. "What was that, boy?"

"Oh, um," Sam started to correct himself, forgetting where he was, "Where's everyone going? Is something wrong?"

"A boat full of deathly ill Italian merchants just arrived," he said. It's a sickness London has never seen before." And with that, the man took off again. Sam's eyes suddenly filled with a mixture of concern and curiosity. He jogged back into the tavern.

"Dean, come on," he called from the front door. Dean's relaxed form had its back to Sam, but he turned slightly to look at his brother. "Why?"

"I wanna go check something out."

"What is it?"

"Some Italian Merchants just showed up and they have some weird disease. I wanna see what it is and see if I can help."

Dean sighed, and stood. "Let's go."

They followed the crowd of congregating people and were lead to the harbor, where everyone was crowded around a man who lay there, covered in sweat. His lymph nodes were swollen to three times their normal size, and it looked like they were bleeding. There was a younger man kneeling next to him, who looked around twenty three, looking around the crowd frantically. "Please, I beg of you, help him! He's dying!" He suddenly broke out into a coughing fit, and a few women bent down to help him.

Sam stared at the man for a minute. Thoughts started rushing through his head.

_1348._

_London._

_Plague._

_Death._

That's when it clicked for Sam.

He took a step back. "Dean, we need to get out of here."

"What?" Dean exclaimed quietly, frustration in his face. "We just got here! And _you're _the one who wanted to come, remember?"

"Dean, I know what this is, and we need to leave, now. Before we get infected," Sam said, suddenly urgent. He started to walk away, but Dean grabbed his arm, stopping him. "Sam, hold on a second! Tell me what you're thinking!"

"Dean, I don't think; I _know._ Remember, from history class?" Dean stared at him blankly. "Think about it!"

But Dean said nothing, and Sam let out a loud exasperated sigh. "You really never paid attention, did you?"

Dean shrugged and gave him a look that said, "You're really asking me if I remember any of that shit?"

Sam rolled his eyes and lowered his voice so that others wouldn't hear him. "Back in 1348, a plague hit London. It was extremely contagious; if you touched someone, talked to someone, hell if you even _breathed the same air_ with someone who was infected, you would catch it, and you'd die within a week. It was so bad that people started abandoning their houses, towns, friends, and relatives...it killed off half the population." Dean stared at his brother, feeling the fear slowly begin to rise in his chest.

"Dean, it's November 1, 1348. This is the day the Black Death hits London…and there's no cure."

Dean looked down at the ground, processing all the information. "So…" he began. "Basically, you're saying all those people over there," he gestured toward the men and women crowded around the merchants, "are going to die?"

Sam nodded solemnly. "And there's nothing we can do about it. That's why we need to get out of here."

Dean was confused. "If we can't save them, then why did Castiel send us here? What does he want us to learn from watching people _die_?"

"I don't know." Sam said quietly. They were both quiet for a minute before Dean spoke, voicing a worry they both had. "Sam?" "Yeah?" Dean gulped, but Sam didn't notice. "Are we…I mean…can we avoid this?" "The plague?" Dean nodded in affirmation.

In his mind, Sam knew it would take a miracle to prevent themselves from catching it. All they could do was hide out in the inn; warn the man who owned the tavern to not let anyone inside, and then tell him why. But how's he going to respond to that? And would that even work? What if the place had rats with fleas that carried the disease and infected him and his brother while they were asleep?

Sam shook his head slightly. "Want an honest answer, or an answer that'll make you feel better?" "I'll take the honest one." Sam took a deep breath.

"I don't think we can, Dean. We might not survive this one."

* * *

A/N: Cue the dramatic, ominous music. :) Hope you liked it; please review!


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